


I Reign Supreme in My Own Damn Mind

by pxncey



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxncey/pseuds/pxncey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsey is despairingly gay, and likes to hang out in graveyards because she is also despairingly punk. Jamia is suitably Catholic, and her grandma has just died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Reign Supreme in My Own Damn Mind

Jamia expected a number of things of her grandmother’s funeral: first of all, there would most definitely be a great amount of crying, because her grandma was a truly great grandma, and people who barely even knew her always seemed to want her to be their grandma. Second, there would be a lot of black, as is to be expected of any respectable funeral. And third of all, it would be peaceful.

Well. She got the first part right. There was a very vast amount of crying, as she had anticipated. What Jamia wasn’t expecting was for a girl wearing a bright pink skirt with black hair tied into pigtails to be dancing around the graveyard in the background throughout the entire funeral. And barely anyone but Jamia seemed to notice her, because she was behind the majority of the crowd, and Jamia was at the front, facing everybody. Including happy-go-lucky pink pigtail girl.

This was most definitely not how she had wanted her grandma’s funeral to be. Someone ought to educate that girl on respect, and how to act in public, and most importantly, how not to dance at a funeral.

Jamia stayed behind once the conglomeration had separated. She wanted to pay her respects to her grandma in peace. But crazy pink pigtail girl apparently could not allow her that. “Hey!” the girl said, smiling widely. “Your granny died?”

“Yes,” Jamia said. “And I’d thank you to leave me in peace with her.”

The girl was silent for a short while. Then, “Was she a good lady?”

Jamia blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You know!” the girl laughed. Her eyes crinkled up, and Jamia could see the careful jet black lines of her eyeliner. “Was she nice?”

“Yes,” Jamia snapped. “Why else would I be crying at her funeral?”

The girl shrugged. “Maybe you wanted to make peace with her or something.”

“Well, I don’t need to make peace with her. She was lovely, and I told her so whenever I could.”

“Well then, you don’t need to pay your respects to her here. She’s everywhere. She’s giving the trees life, giving the flowers colour. She wouldn’t want you to spend your time at her final resting place moping, would she?”

Jamia stared at the kid. She did make a fairly reasonable point. And Jamia quite liked the idea of her grandma bringing life and love to the world as an invisible force—although it sort of contradicted with what Father Thomson had told her happened when people died. “I suppose,” Jamia said, determined to convey far more reluctance than she was actually feeling. "So?"

"I feel bad for all those happy people who've died and have had to cope with all their friends and family being so down in their new home. So I like to brighten things up for them." The girl smiled. "Make it happy again."

"That's why you dance?"

"Yeah!"

Jamia raised an eyebrow, glancing the girl up and down. "And wear luminous pink skirts?"

"Of course." The kid smoothed down her skirt and dipped her head a little. The smell of raspberries radiated from her hair. It was a little weird, and worryingly alluring. "My grammy loved pink."

Jamia found herself smiling. "I love pink." The girl's skirt had been a little obnoxiously bright at first, but it was growing on Jamia. She noticed that the colour of the skirt matched the girl's rosy cheeks, and appreciated the thought for a moment, before unceremoniously pushing it from her mind.

"I like you," the girl beamed. She was practically glowing with confidence, and Jamia had to admit that she kind of liked it.

She didn't like that she liked it. In all honesty she was a little scared of the way she wanted to hold the girl's pretty smile in her mind forever, like it was something precious, something to be kept safe. "Mother doesn't like me to be alone for this long," Jamia said, bearing down on the panic rising in her stomach. "I should go."

"You're not alone," the girl smiled. "I'm here." She extended her hand, her bright lipgloss smile widening. "Lindsey."

Jamia felt her head spin and she clutched at the hem of her cardigan. She didn't take the girl's hand, although a part of her wanted to. "Jamia," she said. "Anyway, I really ought to–"

"Come with me," Lindsey said quickly. There was something wild in her eyes, and something lovely about her smile. She was unknown and enthralling, and like nothing Jamia had ever seen before, but above everything, this girl had made her smile when she'd been at the lowest she'd ever been in her life.

Jamia didn't let her voice rise above a murmur when she spoke. She could barely believe what she was doing. "Yes." Lindsey grabbed her hand, and twirled around in a pirouette, and Jamia laughed. "Yes!"

Lindsey laughed too, and it was warm and soft and lovely, and Jamia felt herself go pink. Lindsey squeezed her hand and started to skip, faster than Jamia could walk, pulling Jamia along with her. Jamia’s skirt skimmed over the dewy grass, and the water dampened the hem and creased the tidy pleats, and Jamia didn’t care. As Lindsey ran, she kicked up little droplets into a mist around the two of them, and all Jamia could think about was how fresh and free she felt. She ran too, kicking up the heels of her sensible Sunday shoes so that the water flicked into the air behind her.

“You feel free, don’t you?” Lindsey said, smiling that wide lipgloss smile of hers.

Jamia whistled and twirled like Lindsey had done before, but tripped on her own feet, unused to anything faster than a sensibly paced walk. She yelled, and tugged sharply at Lindsey’s hand as she fell, pulling the girl down with her. Lindsey just giggled, and tipped her head back so that her hair collected all the droplets of water hanging off the grass around her. She looked up at the sky, while Jamia examined her slightly bruised knee. “You gonna survive?” Lindsey asked, squeezing Jamia’s arm.

Jamia grunted, and squinted at her knee. She prodded at the bruise, and made an uncertain noise.

“You need me to kiss it better?” Lindsey teased, smile permanently on her face.

Jamia was dizzy again, and she was unsure why. She felt a little like she was still falling, even though she was certain that she was still now, and she could feel the cold ground under her knees. “Yes,” she said experimentally, in a hushed voice. “Perhaps.”

Lindsey giggled softly, and rolled onto her side so that she could kiss Jamia’s nose.

“That’s not my knee,” Jamia said indignantly. “You’re doing it wrong, you're—”

Lindsey dipped her head down and pressed her mouth to Jamia’s before Jamia could finish what she was saying. She kissed Jamia lightly, light enough that she could pull away easily—but Jamia just made a soft sound and tugged at the ends of Lindsey’s hair, and let Lindsey curl her fingers around the back of her neck. Lindsey broke away after a moment, and Jamia made a quiet noise and pressed back into the kiss, pulling Lindsey closer to her and accidentally bumping their noses together. Lindsey reluctantly pulled away for breath a few moments later. “I’m what?” she asked.

“You’re incredible,” Jamia said, taking in a breath of the cool dewy air around her, and tasting clear lipgloss on her tongue.

“As are you,” Lindsey said, “Darling stranger.”

“I can hardly call you a stranger anymore,” Jamia murmured contemplatively. “You must be something more important than that.”

“I’m Lindsey,” Lindsey said, her smile softer and smaller than before, but her eyes ever as bright.

“Yes,” Jamia said, a smile finding its way to her own face. “Yes, you are.”


End file.
